


Whump-tober 2019

by soullessvoid



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, Graphic Description, I Tried, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tagging as I go, Whumptober 2019, Whumptober Challange, good luck, i can't tag, minecraft au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-25 17:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20915540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessvoid/pseuds/soullessvoid
Summary: This is for the Whump-tober 2019 writing challenge. I'll end up posting sporadically and/or spamming depending on how much I have written for it but feels and pain and angst lie ahead so be warned. If a chapter is particularly explicit I'll try my best to remember to let you know in that specific chapter's notes. You have been warned.Happy Reading!!!





	1. #1 Shaky Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's really nothing too explicit in this one but if Non-Con rubs you up the wrong way here's your warning, though it is pretty implied.

The police officer darted around the corner, gun up, efficient and clean as every police officer should be, and froze. Quickly realising that he shouldn't be where he was, especially when he was pointing a gun at the man standing in front of him. It was honestly a bizarre sight, the devil of Achievement City himself standing in the middle of a deserted club's dance floor, facepaint glowing like some kind of spectre under the blacklights, grinning away like this was the best day of his life. And, let's face it, it probably was. Vagabond had a lone cop in an empty building, backup wouldn't be arriving for another half hour, even then they'd lock the building down and wait for swat and by that time he'd be dead on the floor in bits and Vagabond would be safely away probably laughing his head off at the police department's incompetence. 

"Well look what the cat dragged in. Was this the one you were telling me about, dear?" 

A squawk came from the direction of the bar closely followed by smashing bottles. A birds nest of golden hair made a sudden appearance above the countertop along with mischevious green eyes and a sheepish grin. He flopped onto the countertop, head propped up on a fist and stared, a little frown creasing between his eyebrows as he bit at his lower lip thoughtfully. Actions that were suddenly, starkly, all too familiar to the police officer. 

No, it couldn't be, could it? The pristine guy lying almost completely on top of the club's bar couldn't be the same clumsy mess he'd met in the small back-alley place he liked to go to get away from everything. They'd laughed, grinned and argued for most of the night, both discovering the other's same love of games and other nerdy shit. Only, he was. His nose was unmistakable and when he spoke his accent confirmed it. 

"Ohhh yup, that's him. Hello, Love." 

The same British accent he'd mocked alongside the nose and the random questions and the clumsy bubbling energy. He didn't know why he hadn't seen it sooner. Hindsight was a bitch and this one had just bitch-slapped him across the face with a fish. This was the same Gavin, the same whirlwind of calamity, now glittering and perfect, certain and deliberate and deadly. 

Rumours had been going around for _months_ about Vagabond working with someone. None of the rumours were proven and the dead couldn't talk, but there was evidence on the more recent murder victims that there wasn't just one person any more. It was two, or more, and that was a terrifying thought. A terrifying _reality_ he now realised as he looked between Vagabond and the Golden Boy, there was two of them and this new guy was a complete unknown. 

He felt sick as he tried to wrap his brain around this new revelation. Not many criminals murdered cops, not many killers murdered cops, purely because of the violent backlash when they inevitably got caught. Vagabond had no such qualms. Said murderer was staring at him intently, hungrily, and he had to fight the urge to shift and squirm under the intense gaze. 

"You've outdone yourself," Vagabond murmurs, stepping closer and snorts. "Officer Jones sounds like the sidekick of a bad sixties cop drama." 

"Oh! Michael! Would you rather be a main character or a sidekick?" 

He didn't respond, caught in his panic at the situation, staring at the two of them. They were talking, like they _knew_ each other, like they knew each other as people and not just masks and reputations, talking how he and Gavin had in the pub but these two were more intimate more deeply aligned with each other. 

"Uh, I think he's about to pass out..." Gavin walking closer to him snapped him back to reality and he realised that he'd lowered his pistol, snapping it up to point at the gangly man whose hands immediately shot into the air as his eyes went wide. "Nope, nope, very much _not_ about to pass out..." 

To his surprise, Vagabond didn't move an inch. Gavin was still talking, trying to get him to lower the gun, glancing occasionally over to the skull-faced serial killer. All it took though, was one step forward from Vagabond to have Michael snapping to point his pistol at the closer threat. A very nonchalant looking threat. Another step had Michael backing away, gun still raised, Vagabond taking another and another, pushing him backwards. A slow smile was creeping onto the skull painted face in front of Michael, a predator cornering its prey and knowing it has _time_. All Michael could hope for was that he was backing towards the hallway he'd come down. 

He wasn't. His back hit solid concrete and Vagabond just kept getting closer and closer, Michael saw the barrel of his pistol wave and realised that his hands were shaking. His hands had never shaken and that rocked him more than anything else had so far. Finally Vagabond stopped, chest inches away from the waving barrel, point-blank with no escape if Michael pulled the trigger. 

There was an ominous click next to his head that made him jump. Gavin, holding a golden fucking gun to Michael's head, with the same hungry look on his face that Vagabond had. 

"We like you, so you have a choice Micoo. You die, right here, right now, bits spread everywhere and brains all over the walls," Gavin says to him, the conversational description at odds with the reports he'd read about the Vagabond's victims. "Or, you come with us and you get to live a little longer, maybe just longer if we really like you." Gavin grins, glancing at Vagabond who looks amused.

Michael didn't want to die. Maybe, with them, there was a chance. A chance he could get away. A tiny hope. He lowers his pistol, hating himself slightly because these are criminals, people he should be capturing and putting behind bars for good, now wrapping him around their little fingers. 

"Alright," Michael whispers, "I'll go with you."

~~~

Six months later. 

_"The body found washed up on the lakeshore two weeks ago has now been identified as that of Police Officer Michael Jones. Said to have been the first on the scene when shots were fired in a now-closed nightclub in downtown. Evidence suggests that this was another brutal murder by the serial killer known only as 'Vagabond'. If anyone sees this individual, please, do not engage. Call the police, run and hide. This person is armed, dangerous and volatile."_

A lopsided grin pulls lips away from teeth and a shotgun cackle fills a concrete room. No, no you do not run from the Vagabond. He _likes_ it.

They all do. 


	2. #2 Explosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PUNS!!!! Also graphic descriptions of violence and gore. 
> 
> Enjoy!

"What is he, some kind of joker?" One of the cronies scoffs.

Ramsey, Mogar, Rimmy Tim, and Slitty all casually rest their hands on their weapons, anticipating Vagabond to snap. Instead, everyone turns uneasily to the chuckling man in the black skull mask. 

"Joker? Me?" Vagabond says, words dripping with sarcasm. 

The FAHC members at the deal were now visibly tense and uneasy. They'd seen Vagabond tear people apart over lesser insults, maybe he was just in a good mood, but no one knew and everyone was expecting something to blow up. Vagabond stalked forward, no one dared get in his way, shifting aside to let the killer pass. He stops in front of the other gang's leader, the usually confident man visibly uneasy at his proximity, the rest of the gang stiff with their hands on their weapons. 

"You need to muzzle that mutt before I do it for you. Permanently." 

The gang leader twitches in an attempt not to flinch at the low growl. Ramsey shuffles, looking like he wants to say something, thinking better of it when Vagabond tilts his head slightly waiting. The gang leader gives a small nod, sagging slightly when Vagabond moves back seeming satisfied. 

"Wait, what?! You're seriously just gonna let these freaks walk all over us?" The crony argues voice almost a shout and too loud in the echoey warehouse. 

Vagabond freezes. His back to the other gang but they all saw how he tensed, a visible effort to hold himself in one spot. The skull twitches then jerks up, the FAHC members seeing the murder in Vagabond's eyes and instantly knowing how much it was taking for him to stay in that one spot, staring at Ramsey and waiting for an order. A testament to how much he'd become part of the crew. 

Ramsey calmly met Vagabond's eyes, he wanted to rip the man apart himself and could see the thin veil of restraint in the other man. Ramsey stepped forward, murmured a few words to Vagabond that had him relaxing slightly but still rooted where he stood. Ramsey stepped past him and up to the gang leader. 

"The deal will go ahead as planned," The gang relaxed in relief only to tense up at Ramsey's next words. "Compensation must also be paid for the insult your man delt us." 

There was no leeway, no compromise in Ramsey's hard-set face. It was either take the deal and leave with their lives or be wiped out like all the other crews and gangs that crossed, insulted or underestimated FAHC. The leader glanced at his men uneasily. 

"What would this compensation entail?" His voice wavered, justifiably terrified of the five killers standing in the warehouse with him. 

Ramsey stays silent for a moment, appearing to think, letting his eyes wander over all the members of the gang in front of him before stopping on the loudmouth. 

"Him." 

A few shouts of protest exploded into the silence, mostly it was exclamations of surprise and confusion. Even the rest of the FAHC looked vaguely surprised. They'd done similar things to make a point, but not often and always with justifiable reason. As far as anyone was concerned, insulting one of their crew was a justifiable reason. 

The gang leader paled, unwilling to sacrifice one of his men but not wanting to add insult to injury and have his gang become a target just because one of his veteran men couldn't keep his mouth shut. However, the guy had started becoming a problem. Pushing for bigger and bigger hits, mouthing off in front of clients and dealers, and to top it all off he'd insulted the top dogs of Los Santos. He really should have known better. 

"Done." Yes, it was cruel but better FAHC deal with that than having to do it himself. 

The clear grin in Vagabond's eyes was sickening as the mass murderer stepped forward, fisted a hand in the loudmouth's shirt and dragged him stumbling, swearing and protesting to shove him to the concrete surrounded by the members of FAHC. When he tried to stand back up Vagabond gave him a vicious elbow to the stomach that sent him straight to the ground again. Sensibly, he stayed there for the rest of the deal until he was dragged out as FAHC left. 

~~~

Later police would find his head hung from a meathook in that same warehouse. His face carved up into a permanent smile, tongue lolling out from between his teeth like a dead fish. Tiny bits of meat and viscera splattered and hanging all over the place like a grenade had exploded inside him and sent everything flying outwards through a meat processor. Blood had dried everywhere too, over the floors and walls and up into the rafters and corrugated iron ceiling. 

A single phrase had been written into the blood on the floor. 

_He went out with a Bang _:D


	3. #3 Delirium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um... shit happens... It's not pretty...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some pretty graphic violence and gore, so if you're squeamish this is your warning. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Jeremy felt helpless. He hated it. Not being able to do anything, not being able to help with the fever-dream nightmares. It was like that endless waiting just before one of their insane contraptions creaked to life hoping that nothing would break, nothing would crack or crunch or collapse. At least then there was the hope, the adrenaline and excitement of _succeeding_ and seeing the results of their hard work. Now, they could only wait. 

The Nether was a dangerous place, they all knew that, full of creatures and monsters that will immediately try to bite or blast your face off. And it was hot, waterfalls and endless lakes of lava creating the choking hazy atmosphere, even the stone was flammable and ignited at the smallest spark. It had been one of their regular expeditions there, collecting ingredients and components fighting off the mobs that attacked them and exploring the nearby fortresses. They knew the risks and how easy it was to get lost or overwhelmed by the hostile mobs. 

Michael and Jeremy had been wandering down a dim hallway in one of the fortresses joking and talking, excited to finally be out of their little town and exploring again. Jack had wandered off down another hallway with Geoff, and Ryan and Gavin trailed off up some stairs debating the merits of some obscurely specific life inconvenience. Jeremy and Michael were in the middle of fighting both a blaze and a wither when a terrible scream cut through the suppressive atmosphere momentarily stopping the battle as all of them turned to look in the direction it had come from. There was another scream and it tore at Jeremy because it could only be one of his friends, but right now though he and Michael had their own deadly problems to deal with. 

When both the blaze and the wither were in pieces and they'd collected all the useful parts from the corpses, only then did they look back to where the screaming was coming from. Jeremy and Michael were on one of the open towers of the fortress looking out over the rest of the Nether. From there they could see across through the haze down into an open courtyard where the small figure of Gavin was fending off a small horde of reanimated skeletons. Jeremy's stomach dropped and he heard Michael swear when neither of them could see Ryan. They had one rule, never go off alone. 

Jeremy and Michael shared a glance, there was no doubt in either of them and a second later they were both racing through dim and firey hallways to get to Gavin. When they got there they threw themselves into the fray hacking at the skeletons and reducing them to piles of bones with brutal efficiency. Once all the mobs were gone and some of the adrenaline had worn off Jeremy turned to Gavin, Michael already halfheartedly ripping into him about being by himself, but movement caught his eye and Jeremy turned, only to let out a shout and rush past the other lads to the curled body on the ground. And froze. 

Everything was a blur after that. Jack and Geoff meeting them at the portal, practically dragging Ryan to the small medical room Jack had next to his house. The gut-wrenching screams as Jack worked, pulling the arrow out of Ryan's eye socket, cutting out the mangled remnants of the eye, all of them having to hold Ryan down so Jack could concentrate without having to worry about injuring Ryan further. 

Now, Jeremy sat watching Ryan, bandaged up himself from the fights with the mobs. At least then he was doing something, knew exactly what was needed and how to do it. This, this was hell. Anxiety made his leg bounce, unsure what he should be doing or even if he could do something. Jack had given Ryan something that immediately knocked him out, said it was a mix of a healing potion, sleeping potion and something for the pain so Ryan could sleep and heal. But now, Ryan was tossing and twitching, mumbling incoherent words, the half of his face not covered in bandages screwed up. 

Each of the others popped by but Jeremy barely paid them any attention, at least until he was forced by Michael and Geoff to get up and eat something. Only to return immediately afterwards. A while later Jack came in to change the bandages, had Jeremy hold Ryan down so he wouldn't move, Ryan screamed again when Jack cleaned his eyesocket the sound tearing at Jeremy, but there was nothing he could do. Just sit and wait, help Jack when he came to change the bandages, talk to Ryan when he was tossing and turning and looking so so scared. 

~~~ 

Jeremy groggily pulled himself back to consciousness form an uncomfortable dream about eyes and dragons and emptiness. Something had changed, which was what woke him up, but he was still out of it enough to not quite figure out what it was. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Jeremy looked around the room. Jack had probably come in at some point and draped a blanket over him. As he looked around, he realised it was silent, there was no shifting or muttering from the bed and when he looked over there were only rumpled sheets pushed to the foot of the bed and empty space where a body should have been. 

Panic shot through Jeremy like a lightning bolt and he threw off the blanket, dashing to the door. It was freezing, snow starting to fall and leaving a white dusting over everything. Ryan was standing in the centre of the grassy common staring up at the sky in his light undershirt and kilt. Jeremy immediately rushed over, shivering in the cold, rubbing at his arms as he moved to stand in front of Ryan. The blond calmly looked down at him, not at all affected by the cold, hands stuffed casually into his pockets. 

An ice-blue eye looked down at Jeremy and he felt his blood run cold. From the direction he'd rushed from and the angle of Ryan's head he hadn't seen it at first, everything looked normal except the barely-there clothes, even the small smile when Ryan saw Jeremy was the same. Ryan's eye, the one that got shot, was there again, or it was a new one from an enderman or some other black magic, but it was an eye and it was glowing purple. There was a slight pulse to the purple glow in the otherwise black orb that was almost hypnotic, Jeremy had to shake himself before asking Ryan what had happened, why there was a glowing purple eye in his head where there shouldn't be anything. 

Ryan just gave a noncommital hum, tilting his head back up to the sky, that small smile anything but comforting. Now that Ryan was looking away from him, that unnatural eye tuned away and focused somewhere else, Jeremy could look him over. The freezing temperature was entirely forgotten when he saw creeping purple tendrils running up Ryan's arm from where his hand disappeared into his pocket, the same dark purple peeking out from the collar of his shirt and running up his neck to under his jaw. Jeremy jumped when Ryan spoke, not expecting the murmured answer in the frozen white silence. 

"I wanted to." 


End file.
